But Von Buelow as a
conductor was supremely great. His stronghold was as a Beethoven
conductor, and he considered Beethoven the greatest composer. He said
that the Ninth Symphony could not be appreciated in one hearing, so he
played it twice at a certain concert. Needless to say the hall was
almost empty during the repetition.

He did a similar thing once at another time with a composition of
Brahms. His great mentality made him an ardent admirer of Brahms; and on
this occasion the people were not all enthusiastic, upon which Von Buelow
turned to the audience and said, sharply, "What! you do not like it? I
shall make you like it!" And he immediately had the whole piece
repeated, to the dismay of the audience. After that lesson the people
applauded loudly whenever a Brahms piece was played. I wonder if Dr.
Holmes would not have classed Von Buelow among the men who have
"squinting brains," as he calls them?

Von Buelow could not endure having any one present at his rehearsals,
though it is said that people would be willing to risk a good deal for
that enjoyment. A very good story is told on this subject about a few
ladies who once gained access to the hall just before the rehearsal was
to begin. Von Buelow saw them, of course--for he wanted to see everything
that was to be seen, and also what was not to be seen--and he determined
to get them away without speaking to them. So he said to the orchestra,
"We will commence to-day by practising the bassoons." Thirty-two bars
rest to begin with, during which Von Buelow beat time unflinchingly--then
a snort here, and a snort there, for a little while--then sixty-four
bars rest--then a repeat--but the would-be auditors of the rehearsal had
made their exit!

At a certain concert the audience was very enthusiastic over a Meyerbeer
March, I think it was, which his orchestra had just played, and which
Von Halson, director for the opera, had also recently played. Seeing the
immense excitement, he turned and said, "No wonder you like it after
hearing it at the circus which Von Halson runs." Some time after came
the memorial concert for Von Halson. The conductor, fearing that there
might be some trouble, said he would not have Von Buelow in the house. So
he gave all the ushers portraits of Von Buelow, and told them to turn him
out of the hall. It was done; but Von Buelow knew well his own
favoritism, and the next day took a clever revenge, which rather turned
the tables. He was to pla